


Stories At Knife-Point

by Songofpsalms297



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Brief descriptions of rape, F/M, Found Family, Friends to family, Gen, I don't like how incredibly slight elves are in DAII, In DA:O everyone was proportionately sized, Magebane would inhibit all magical abilities, No one looked painfully thin, Protective Varric, Surprise could affect someone's natural defensive reactions, brief descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 18:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11629158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songofpsalms297/pseuds/Songofpsalms297
Summary: More thoughts of what happened between the events in DA2, and Inquisition. Interrogations take time. I had this really humorous idea for a story, where Varric is yanking Cass' chain, but the story kinda ran where it wanted to....The rape is alluded to, the death is explicit. All this goes down in chapter one.





	1. Chapter 1

The first story she "requests" at knife point is the Tale of the Champion. She didn't know it at the time, but he spent the entire retelling of Marian's life story, and their interactions with half his mind on the task. He'd already told the story so often, to anyone willing to hear, that it was automatic. He's spent so much of his life spinning tales and weaving yarns that he could track his audience's interest level subconsciously. He tracked the sparks of interest in their eyes, their gasps of excitement, hitches when they were concerned about their heroes’ chances of fighting another day. He could track their level of involvement in the story by how the pulse in their necks throbbed, whether or not they wet their lips. How they leaned during the stories: forward, hands fisted on the literal edge of their seats; backward, eyes wandering about the room, smiling and nodding at other patrons, fiddling with anything, not invested, actively looking for entertainment elsewhere; leaning to the right or left, body turned, attention waning, but still semi-caught. As a storyteller with many talents, Varric's ability to track, follow, and manipulate these cues that most people weren't even aware of, had allowed him to resolve many issues that would have otherwise resulted in tragedy for himself, his family, or his finances.   
She didn't know it, but his experiences being interrogated by Seeker Pentaghast, directly fueled his next several chapters of Hard in Hightown. The way Jethan and Donnic tracked their prey, their "interrogation" techniques borrowed heavily from his own experiences.


	2. Chapter 2

The second story told at knife-point, Varric scratches on the throat of the arrogant templar who'd brought Daisy in for "questioning" the day after he'd finished spinning his tale for the Seeker. He'd just been given his walking papers, fighting to keep his reaction to the Lady Seeker from being visible when she leaned into his personal space to warn him to stay around Kirkwall. He didn't mean to, but his eyes were caught by her full lips, he was contemplating leaning forward, half an inch more when she smirked, and drew away. "Don't wander far, dwarf. I am certain we will need to speak again." Turning on her heel, she walked down the long hallway to the Viscount's throne room, where he knew someone else waited to speak with her. He only spent so long watching her so he wouldn't be surprised by an attack. It had absolutely nothing to do with the sway of her hips as she marched away from him. Sighing audibly, he spun on his heel, heading down the steps by the Viscount's office and had his hand on the door when he heard crack resonate. Daisy's anguished scream suddenly cut off, had him spinning on his heel and bolting in the direction of her voice faster than he'd run in his life.   
Bursting into the room, he spotted her weeping on the floor, bloody red hand print covered by her own hands. Great green eyes weeping. The smell of magebane, tears, blood, rage, and fear putrefying in his nostrils. Daisy's clothing was torn, staff broken, the templar paused, growl on his lips at the interruption. The templar sneered at Varric, rolling his shoulders as if in recognition that the upcoming scuffle wouldn't take long, and he could return to his plans for the magefilth sprawled on the floor.   
"Varric! He said I was-" The templar spun back and kicked Daisy hard in the stomach, effectively silencing the sobbing elf.  
Varric's heart broke at the sound and sight before him, fury burned in his veins. Daisy was part of his little found family. Brothers fought for their sisters. Before the templar could fully turn, to tie his trousers and reach for his sword, Varric's left boot dagger was sliding into across his neck.  
The templar was dead before he hit the ground. As soon as Varric finished the fatal cut, he dropped to the ground, peeling his duster off. He wrapped the duster around Daisy like a blanket, scooped her up, and headed out of the Viscount's keep, down to the healer's clinic he frequented whenever he was recovering from the latest Davri warning. Sol was discrete, and effective. He wrapped his arms more securely around the weeping Daisy, mumbling a Dalish lullaby, one that Daisy had shared with him ages ago. When he'd first given her the twine to find her way home during her first months in Kirkwall. They'd spoken of home, during a lull in their conversation, she'd risen to refresh their tea, he'd heard her humming, and asked what the song was. Wide eyed and joyful, she had regaled him with the story behind the lullaby, what the words meant, and how often she'd been called upon as Marethari's first to help new parents soothe colicky babes with a little magic, and a little song. Knowing how comforting Daisy found the song, Varric hummed it to her while moving as quickly as he could, so as not to jar her.   
"Varric, do you think I did something to deserve this?" His heart broke again at the grief, and horror that echoed through her voice.   
"Don't even think it, Daisy. He was an ignorant asshole." Her sobs once again renewed with force, she was so slight, her shifting in his arms to bury her face against his neck, he worried she would blow away with the first strong gust from the Sea.   
He laid her down on the bed in his suite, one of the street kids, running his urgent missive to Sol's shop in Hightown.


	3. Chapter 3

The next story told at knife-point is his second interrogation of the week. Though the leggy brunette seeker who starred in the first one, is absent. In her place is a hairy, scowling templar. His face is vaguely familiar to Varric. This templar huffs as he moves in his armor. It's a discipline the templar is reacquainting himself with, Varric can tell by the jerky movements the templar makes when pacing. Having made some decision, the templar turns abruptly to face Varric, glare nowhere near as intimidating as Aveline's, Varric can't help the snort of derision that comes when the templar advances on him.   
"One of my best men was discovered yesterday, right after you'd left the keep." Knife pressing into Varric's neck, "his throat was slit. Unless you want to join him, you'll tell me everything that transpired."  
Given how much the templar’s arm shook, Varric took what was a laughable threat, much more seriously. Idiocy was as much a cause of death as anything else he knew.   
“I’d much rather make my report to the Lady Seeker, if you don’t mind, ser Templar.”  
Just as the templar opened his mouth to breath a threat into Varric’s face, knife piercing his skin, a voice spoke from the doorway.   
“What exactly is going on here?” Varric released the breath he’d been holding, and then cursed. The templar who’d been holding a knife to his throat, jumped, dropping the blade, which, conveniently cut Varric’s calf from the back of his knee, almost to his heel.   
“Andraste’s hairy asshole!” Varric cursed. The Lady Seeker spotted the blade on the ground, and snapped into action. Before he knew it, she had arrested the templar, sent for a healer, and was now kneeling before him cutting his pants to see to his wound. Despite the pain, and his fury about Daisy, Varric couldn’t resist.   
“Usually, the beautiful woman buys me dinner before trying to get my clothes off.” From her place on the ground she glared up at him, he winked. Rolling her eyes she prompted.  
“What happened to cause this?” She asked.   
“This templar took offence to me paying back the templar who abused Daisy yesterday.” She gasped. Her outrage was encouraging.   
“That bastard!” She moved away from him to make way for the healer and her helpers. “You will tell me everything that happened as you know it, before you leave today.” With that, she left him to the healer.


End file.
